


Soon Peter Pan Will Soar Through the Stars

by planetundersiege



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Anxiety, Blood, Bruises, Bullying, Child Abuse, Death, Gen, Graphic depiction of self harm, Human Tavros, Humanstuck, Pain, Sadness, Self Harm, Suicide, beatings, explicit - Freeform, tavros - Freeform, warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 12:53:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11783556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planetundersiege/pseuds/planetundersiege
Summary: Tavros had always tried his best, but he was never good enough, not even good enough to live.





	Soon Peter Pan Will Soar Through the Stars

The sudden pain stung, almost overwhelming him as the red blood began dripping down from his wrist to the bathroom floor, taking the boy aback. This had been his intention, but he wasn't prepared of the pain, which was strange, since he was shown pain everyday, his parents hitting and kicking him every day, leaving bruises all over young Tavros’ body.

And at school it wasn't any better.

Once he had stuck his head out the window to admire a small butterfly flying by, and the next second he was crying and bleeding on the hard ground, as his childhood bully Vriska Serket had pushed him down from the third floor, permanently paralyzingly his legs for the rest of his life. There had been no mercy in her eyes, and firing the countless meetings with therapists afterwards she hadn't a single time showed regret. Rather, she said it was a shame that the fall hadn't killed Tavros, that it would have been much better if that had been the outcome. And that was also how his parents thought about the incident.

His parents had began despising him even more when he had gotten that wheelchair, saying that he was a disgrace and an embarrassment, just a useless cripple that they had to feed.

To keep it simply, the already frequent beating became even more frequent and more violent, and even though countless of people knew about the hell the boy was living in, they just turned around, pretending that they didn't know a thing, leaving him to fend for himself.

But there was something different about harming yourself than getting beaten up again your will while you were crying and begging for mercy. The pain felt different, if stung, but it felt relieving as he felt that he was in control for once, even if it was for something painful.

After all, he deserved the pain, he was just a useless cripple with shitty legs as his parents put it. Just another mouth to feed. Just another “thing” to be embarrassed off.

What he was doing was right.

She looked at the already bloody blade as he put it on his delicate skin, putting it down deeply into the skin, before castle moving the blade from one place to the other, leaving a deep cut who slowly began bleeding, so it no longer just exposed the white fat directly under the skin.

It hurt more, but the pain was addicting, calling his name, begging him for more.

It would be best this way, he knew it.

So he took a deep breaths, didn't think about the tears that ran down his face, and just put the cold blade on his skin and made another cut, and yet another after that. He almost got hypnotized by the rusty color and smell of his blood as it ran down his arms, and then hit the floor as it slowly dropped, staining the white floor red.

This was what his parents would want, he was sure of it. They would be so much happier without him as a problem all the time.

Cut after cut he continued, the motion and rhythm becoming familiar, it it was like he entered autopilot, because each cut made him crave another one even more. The stinging wanted to grow stronger, he wanted to feel more pain, because he knew he deserved it.

This was his punishment.

He began feeling lightheaded, seeing black spots in his field of vision, he knew what this meant, and that he probably should call an ambulance and get help.

But he didn't.

For some reason this felt right, he felt calm.

The pain disappeared, and he put the blade deeper into his skin than ever before, slowly cutting away his skin, now she floor was practically all blood, and he felt his panicked heart beat even faster, asking for help. All while he just smiled, as he fell out of his wheelchair, his clothes bathing in the warm sticky blood.

He began having a hard time to breathe, so he took the razor blade and gave himself a huge final cut before throwing the razor away, making it practically drown in the blood, closing his eyes with a small smile on his face, a smile of thankfulness towards his own actions.

Now it was only a matter of waiting, his head began to spin and he would soon lose consciousness. Soon his suicide would be complete.

He wouldn't have to deal with more of his misery.

He would die, and stay young forever. He would soon be happy again.

He would become one of the lost boys, and fly among the stars together with Peter Pan.


End file.
